


Parallel Universes

by fullyajar



Series: For Our Eyes Only [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, Kink Meme, Season/Series 01, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullyajar/pseuds/fullyajar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana gets bored on the bus to Sectionals (season 1) and thinks of something fun to do. Little does she know, Kurt is equally as bored, and has seriously good ears. </p><p>Part of a series in which various Glee club members catch glimpses of intimate moments between Brittany and Santana over the years, as they grow from friends with benefits to lovers and more. In this instalment, Kurt glimpses a moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Santana

**Author's Note:**

> Also a fill for [this prompt](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/10780.html?thread=18649884).

Around the third time that the Berry dwarf squeakily suggests a ‘quick’ rehearsal of “Proud Mary” and is greeted with enthusiastic replies, Santana realizes that this bus ride is going to be filled _only_ with ‘quick’ rehearsals, and is seriously going to suck. And it’s _four_ hours long.

She sighs in annoyance and twirls Brittany’s hair. She’s leaning against her side while the blonde sits against the window with a quantum mechanics book propped up in her hands. She’s reading at about 20 seconds per page, and Santana hasn’t figured out if she’s reading that fast or just intently studying the pictures and captions accompanying the text.

“I’m bored,” she drones unhappily.

“Uh-huh,” Brittany replies without interest, frowning at a picture/word (Santana has no idea).

 _Great,_ Santana thinks. Now Brittany’s boring her too.

She sits up and looks around, trying to block out the sound and sight of Berry directing a few of the more committed Glee Club members in one of their Sectionals songs. They’ve got it down, in Santana’s opinion. This will be a piece of cake.

As long as Sue didn’t abuse the set-list Brittany had unintentionally given her… Santana glances at the clueless blonde next to her, and sighs unhappily. She should have known Sue would try to abuse Brittany’s gullibility. She hopes it won’t affect them.

She glances at Brittany as the blonde runs her fingers absentmindedly along her arm, her face scrunched up in an adorably concentrated expression as she tries to decipher the complicated mathematics of the book. The light is catching her hair and making it glow like threads of gold, and her blue eyes are sparkling with excitement at the subject matter. Santana doesn’t know how she does it. She barely pays attention during class, and yet she reads theoretical mathematics books in her free time.

A fly passes by in front of Brittany’s field of vision, and she comes out of her concentrated state, startled and looking around like she forgot where she was. Santana smiles at her.

God, she’s cute.

The thought comes suddenly, unbidden, and it startles her. The rush of… _something_ that comes with it, startles her even more.

Of course Brittany’s cute, she’s gorgeous, she’s sexy, and can do things with her fingers and tongue that – well, never mind.

She had not meant to go there. She frowns again.

Yeah, _never mind_.

She purses her lips and pushes it away – both the feeling and the fact that she just mentally _backpedalled,_ for Christ’s sake. _Get a grip._

She thinks back to yesterday afternoon, when Brittany had accidentally let slip that they were sleeping together.

“Sex is not dating,” she’d said, and she stands behind it. She’s having sex with Puck; occasionally with Chad from Ohio State, when he comes home for the weekends; and with Brittany, and she’s still single. Sex is definitely not dating. Dating implies feelings, monogamy, candlelit dinners and romance, and she doesn’t need any of that. And just because Brittany is a girl doesn’t change a thing.

She tenses her jaw.

Except that she doesn’t care about Puck or Chad or anyone else she’s sleeping with. And she does care about Brittany. She loves her, actually  – as a friend. They’re best friends, and that makes things a little more complicated. That _does_ change things.

It changes things mostly because it confuses Brittany, and it forces Santana to split the relationship they have into two very different compartments: friends, and benefits. It forces her to make very clear to Brittany that feelings and sex between them have to stay separate. Puck never poses this problem – he’s never even had any inclination to call her _beautiful_ or to just kiss her and go no further. Chad’s even simpler. She exchanges fewer words with him than she does with Tina the Goth freak, and that stuttering weirdo never says a thing.  But Brittany’s different, because Brittany honestly loves her, and loves having sex with her in a way that sets Santana’s heart beating just a little too fast.

And the two times Brittany’s kissed her outside of just kissing for boys, blurring that boundary between ‘friends’ and ‘benefits’… Well, that’s a problem.

Brittany startles her out of her thoughts by gasping loudly. “Oh my god! Did you know that last year physicists showed an object may exist simultaneously in two different worlds? The object stood still and moved at the same time! Do you know what that means?”

Santana raises an eyebrow.

“Parallel universes! Totally real.”

She smiles, because this is so typically Brittany. Somehow spinning some quirky, fringe scientific discovery into a science fiction story.

“And what would we be like in a parallel universe?” she jokes.

“Oh, good question!” Brittany frowns, honestly giving it thought. Then:  “Dating?” she supplies hopefully, and Santana’s stomach drops.

This is what she means. She’d tried to be clear. “Sex isn’t dating,” doesn’t get any more blunt. No kissing, because that suggests feelings. Or at least… it stirs up something that comes awfully close to feelings. And she’s not gay, so that… Well, just no kissing.

Sometimes Brittany just doesn’t understand.

She swallows thickly, and tries to cover the faint tremor in her voice with a huff of feigned annoyance.

“Britt-Britt…”

Brittany huffs back in annoyance, reflecting her worry with simple sarcasm. “God, I’m just kidding, don’t get so weird,” she murmurs with a smile, nudging her with an easy laugh and sparkling eyes that seem to show just a bit too much perception.

Sometimes Santana wonders if she’s wrong about what Brittany understands.

The blonde turns back to her book, the cheeky smile never leaving her face.

Santana huffs.

Berry’s still croaking the set list like it’s the last time she’ll ever sing, and she’s just about had it up to here. “I swear,” she murmurs sullenly, “if Rachel mentions the importance of really _feeling_ ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ one more time, I’ll smother her in her sleep tonight.”

Brittany chuckles and rests a soothing hand on her knee.

It’s the weirdest thing. It’s the lightest touch, barely even there – Brittany’s fingers are lightly grazing over her bare knee – mindless, unloaded, basically _friendly._ But Santana notices every moment. She feels the warmth from her fingertips, and remember the last time they were together and Brittany had slipped an unexpected third finger inside her, stretching her and making her come within seconds. She feels the light scratch of her fingernails and suddenly feels the matching scratchmarks on her shoulder blades and the imprint of teeth on her collarbone. She sees Brittany’s fingers slip under her Cheerios skirt absentmindedly, and remembers how last night Brittany had eaten her out while she was wearing nothing _but_ the skirt.

She lets out an aroused breath at the memories, and Brittany looks up in surprise.

_Fuck it._

“Come here,” she croons, mirroring Brittany’s hand on her knee and gripping it tightly, her nails digging into creamy skin. The blonde looks up in shock, and Santana smirks. “I’m sure I can find something to do that’s a lot more amusing than your book.” Her smile widens, and she bites her lip enticingly. When she shifts her hand and slides it between Brittany’s legs, her eyes never leaving hers, Brittany gets the hint.

She glances around quickly. The spot across from their seat is empty (no one wants to sit in the front), but directly behind that one, Kurt and Tina are alternating reading something in Tina's lap and absentmindedly looking up at Rachel as she demonstrates singing a fifth… not to mention the fact that Rachel is basically standing on her seat behind them directing the bus. Santana wonders if she’d reserved the whole seat for herself, or if no one wanted to sit next to her. She suspects the latter.

Brittany notices, and glances up and the brunette’s form hovering behind them worriedly. Rachel’s hair is practically brushing the tips of their heads, but the brunette is turned away from them.

“Come on, live a little,” Santana murmurs, sliding closer so she can ghost her evil smile past Brittany’s ear and whisper, “You think I believe for a second that you’ve just been thinking about math equations and parallel universes for the last hour?”

Brittany raises a curious eyebrow, but her hand moves to dog-ear the corner of the page she’s on, and Santana takes it as a battle won.

“If there really are two of you, in two universes, I’m sure the other one is being a lot more… _proactive_ at the moment. I’m sure the _other_ you has only been thinking about my fingers inside you…” she murmurs cryptically.

The corner of the blonde’s lips are turning into a devious smile, and Santana hums approvingly at her friend’s quick reaction. Seriously, she could probably seduce her to eat her out on the podium at graduation or to open her legs on a roller coaster… which – _cool idea._ Her smile widens at the knowledge that even just mentioning it to Brittany would get her an instant free ride on the Pierce family’s seasonal pass to Cedar Point amusement park, and some no doubt very memorable experiences on the Iron Dragon.

Santana slips her hand further to the junction of Brittany’s thighs, and Brittany opens her legs to accommodate her, her smile never wavering and her eyes holding Santana’s intently. Her fingers slide over the fabric of her spanks, and slips past and – _well then…_

“Oh… Well, it seems _you_ have too.”

Brittany crinkles her nose playfully, and crooks a finger beckoningly. When Santana leans closer, she whispers by her ear, “No matter what universe, I’ll always be thinking about that.” She pulls away with a smug smile and shifts her hips to give Santana better access.

 _Cute_ , Santana thinks with a mental snort of derision. Worst description _ever_. Brittany is nothing short of a Goddess of Seduction – in whichever parallel universe she exists.

Santana smiles, and slips her finger inside her. Brittany gasps – loudly, and instantly Santana brings up her other hand to muffle her.

“Quiet,” she hisses, and then adds (for motivation), “Or I’ll stop.”

Brittany covers her hand with her own and nods, eyelids fluttering closed as she accustoms to Santana’s finger. Honestly, it’s only the fact that Brittany’s gasp had drowned out her own that she’s not being berated for making too much noise herself, because that moment of slipping in, of giving in, and really committing to this – _holy fuck._ It’s not just how wet Brittany is – always is… Well, maybe it’s partly that, because the moisture is slick, and warm, and _abundant,_ and that alone is enough to send sparks of pleasure through her body. But it’s also how simply _ready_ she is. Ready, and sexy, and willing, and yeah, that feels pretty good… even if she knows that it shouldn’t.

So, she goes slow for once. It’s not a conscious decision as much as it is _yielding_ to Brittany’s undeniable attractiveness. For once.

The angle is tricky – Brittany is slightly slouched in her seat to let her in, but her spanks are in the way and her thumb is _just_ out of reach from where she knows she’ll make Brittany happiest – although, apparently, one finger, slowly moving, is more than enough to make Brittany happy. She’s brought Santana’s hand down from her mouth to her lap, and has tangled their fingers together, holding tightly and squeezing with each movement. Her shoulders are loose and lazy, and her chest falls sharply with each loud exhale. Her face is still lit up with a gorgeous smile, but it’s no longer seductive: it’s unguardedly happy, and each quirk of her lips in time to Santana’s movements is dripping with candid satisfaction.

It’s not often Santana sees this. Something inside her is screaming not to, to close her eyes and whisper something seductive and add another finger – to hurry, to make Brittany come, because _clearly_ that’s the point…  But she’s seen it now. It’s done.

Maybe it’s the word that had come unbidden across her mind not too long ago still lingering in her mind, or her own conclusion that Brittany was actually a Goddess of Seduction, but again, her jumbled mind tries to label Brittany, and the word she finds is sappy and stupid and as soon as she thinks it, she feels the rush of emotion again, so strongly, that she has to physically shake her head to clear it.

When she opens her eyes, Brittany is looking at her, face flushed, biting her lip, beautif – _sexy_ as hell, and her free hand comes up and rests tenderly on Santana’s neck, a suggestion, and invitation: _come closer_.

Santana suddenly becomes acutely aware of their fingers tangled together in Brittany’s lap.

She untangles her hand without another thought, slips it under Brittany’s shirt and bra, and slips another finger into her, determined not to let her mind cloud her actions and ruin this for Brittany. Though Brittany whines appreciatively at the faster pace she starts to set, something twists guiltily inside Santana, and she ducks her head to avoid Brittany’s gaze as her hand falls from her neck.


	2. Kurt

Kurt’s pretty sure Rachel is singing a fourth. Like, 90% sure. He’s been going cross-eyed for the last minute trying to subtly hum the musical ABCs in his head without alerting Tina next to him, and he gets four steps before he matches Rachel’s note. Which – clearly a fourth.

Of course, he wouldn’t dream of interrupting the diva in her instructions to the rest of her ‘class’, and get his head snapped off in the process. Now, if it was something crucial like the harmony during “Don’t Stop Believing”, he’d have had his say about 15 minutes ago. As it is, he knows correcting Rachel will be more trouble than it’s worth. Seems he’s collecting silent moments of one-upping Rachel while feigning defeat – first “Defying Gravity” three weeks ago, now letting her get away with terribly music instructions.

It still doesn’t sit right with him completely, letting her win. He knows it was the right thing to do – for himself, for his dad – but it’s not going to do Rachel and her ego much good. He’s frustrated as hell, and itches to spill the beans, but he’ll stew in silence because, again, it’s the right thing to do.

“Are you even l-l-listening?” Tina asks suddenly, and with a rush of shame he realizes she was _still_ reading the lyrics to “Proud Mary” out loud.

“Of course, of course,” he mutters, and she continues without a stop. He’d told her already – she doesn’t ever stutter while singing, but she’s wanted to practice so badly, with an insistence bordering on anal retentive, that he’d relented. Little did he know how simultaneously frustrating and boring is could be listening to someone with a stutter reciting lyrics out loud.

 _Seriously, if I don’t know the lyrics by now, I never will_ , he muses with a subtle sigh of annoyance.

All in all (frustration, boredom – and _what is that sound_?) – he’s aching for a distraction.

He looks out the window next to Tina and sighs again, the sound of both Rachel’s _fourths_ and Tina’s stutter a drone in the background.

And then there’s that sound again – a gasp? – and Kurt looks up expectantly, hopefully, wondering if Rachel had realized her mistake and is publicly humiliating herself.

But, to his surprise, she’s still half-standing on her seat, directing the people behind them.

Kurt frowns. He’s quite sure he didn’t imagine it. He arches his head around his seat, looking behind him, but no one else has reacted either – Quinn is doing her nails, Finn, Mike, Matt, and Mercedes are singing, Puck and Artie are chilling all the way in the back, and no one behind him seems to have noticed the moan/gasp/whisper sound.

But… there _are_ two people _not_ sitting behind him.

Kurt takes a moment, staring straight ahead of him, mind working at a mile a minute.

Does he really want to know?

There’s a gasp from Rachel’s direction again, and though the brunette clearly hasn’t heard it, it’s like Kurt can’t hear anything but.

Because he thinks he knows where it’s coming from.

_Oh God._

Maybe he’s wrong.

There’s (relative) silence, besides the background drone, and Kurt strains his ears to hear, trying to push away the reality of what he’s trying to hear and focusing on it for pure investigative and disproving purposes. Because he’s probably wrong.

There’s still silence, and he wonders. He’d actually wondered since yesterday, when Brittany had let slip that she and Santana were having sex. He’d wanted to ask more about it, but when he’d brought it up, Santana had glared at him with such fire, he feared for his scarf – and that scarf was Marc Jacobs, so not cool. He’d scampered, as any sane person would have, but his curiosity hadn’t abated. Not for specifics, because _ew_. Being gay certainly made avoiding vaginas and straight (or lesbian, obviously) sex and all that a lot easier, exempting his short fooling around with Brittany, but he’s still curious. Santana and Brittany, together.

There’s another gasp followed by a wet, clicking sound, and okay, he’s not wrong. Also, again, _ew._

He glances at Tina, but the girl hasn’t noticed a thing, still too caught up in reciting her words and fixing her speech impediment. Rachel’s clearly oblivious, as always.

A few moments pass, and Kurt sits stock-still, his ears picking up the sound and the rhythm he hears without his mind’s consent. When he wanted a distraction, this is _not_ what he wanted. And it’s not like he can escape anywhere either. He tenses his jaw and closes his eyes, mentally blocking out the sound.

 _It’s Brittany,_ he realizes after a little while (because blocking it out seems futile). That surprises him. He’d expected their arrangement, whatever it is (since it clearly isn’t dating), to be largely for Santana’s benefit. The brunette is not shy about flaunting her sexual exploits and needs, and he’s heard plenty of stories from Puck about her libido and dominating and demanding bedside manners. So, logically, it would be her… ahem… _receiving._ But the muffled moans are clearly Brittany.

Okay, now he’s really curious. If the arrangement isn’t to get Santana off… Had he completely misjudged the blonde’s sexual past or interests? Brittany has always been difficult to understand. On the one hand, her deadpan remarks and odd observations make Kurt seriously doubt whether her IQ is in double-digits. Yet – sometimes her words carry subtle sexual innuendos that Kurt always played off to chance. Perhaps it’s time to reevaluate.

He leans forward in his chair without fully thinking through what he’s doing. If he rests his head against the chair in front of him, and turns just so, he can _just_ see –

Yeah, okay, he can see it all. He laughs internally, because it’s not as off-putting as he’d expected. They’re close, as close as two people can get without melding together. One of Santana’s hands is under Brittany’s skirt, clearly working her magic in her underwear. It’s what he’d expected, but what he hadn’t expected was Brittany’s vulnerable, happy smile, as though she were in bed being touched by the love of her life, and not on a schoolbus with her best friend’s hands down her pants. He also hadn’t expected them to _hold hands_ : Santana’s is tangled with Brittany’s on her lap. It’s somehow a tender touch to what he’d assumed was a simple arrangement, and his eyes linger on their hands more than anything.

They’re going very slow, he realizes after a moment as well. Physically – Santana’s hand under Brittany’s skirt is moving almost languidly, exploratory – as well as temporally – especially considering that he’d first heard them at least 10 minutes ago. He knows sex (minus foreplay and all that) actually doesn’t last hours, and he supposes that a bus seat isn’t the ideal spot to prolong the deal… so what’s going on?

He watches for a while. Sure, he feels a little like a perv, but he can handle it, because he’s learning _oh so much_ from just seeing them intimate like this. It’s raising a lot of questions as well, but he’s getting just as many answers. Santana is leaning her forehead against Brittany’s head, lips a finger’s breadth from her ear. As far as he can see, she’s silent, simply breathing by her ear – which is new, because he’s heard from Puck and others that she talks – a lot. Although, admittedly, it could be because of where they are.

Brittany’s eyelids are fluttering with pleasure, and he can’t help but smile a little bit as the corners of her mouth continue to quirk up with every languid movement of Santana’s hand. Brittany’s free hand comes up and rests lightly on Santana’s shoulder, or neck, or the side of her face – Kurt can’t quite see it.

It’s still their hands, fingers tangled together in Brittany’s lap, that touches him most, and he ponders what he’s seeing.

“Are you okay, K-Kurt?” comes suddenly, and he jerks away from the seat in front of him.

“Huh? Yeah, fine.” Tina frowns at him, and he shrugs. “Headache,” he adds.

“Do you want me t-t-to stop?”

“No, no, keep reading, it helps,” he stammers, eyes darting to Brittany and Santana’s seat. Just because _he_ noticed what’s going on over there, doesn’t mean the whole bus has to.

“Okay,” Tina answers, and continues without preamble.

He pauses, waiting to see if Tina’s spidey senses are at all tingling because the rhythmic wet sounds and subdued gasps have _not_ subsided – if anything, they’re faster now, and louder. When Tina shows no sign of having heard, he rests against the seat again, and glances at the girls.

Things have changed. He sees that right away. And he has no idea what happened.

Brittany is slouched further in her seat, chin on her chest with a concentrated, needy expression on her face. Her eyes are screwed shut, her lip is between her teeth, and she’s clearly trying to hold back her sounds – without great success. It doesn’t help that her body is jolting slightly and creaking the seat with the thrusting of Santana’s fingers – because that’s what it’s turned into. Where before, Kurt could barely see the movements Santana made, and could only discern the rhythm based on sound and Brittany’s smile, now Santana’s wrist is tense and determined. Santana’s other hand is under Brittany’s shirt and bra, roughly – or at least, it looks like it – kneading her breast. Kurt squints. He could be imagining it, but it seems like there’s more space between them as well. Before, they’d been as close as any day in school when Brittany had carelessly draped her legs over Santana’s lap or Santana had snuck behind Brittany and held her in a hug that bordered on tender. Now though – where Brittany’s movements naturally bring her closer to Santana, Santana’s back is rigid and she pulls back. Kurt frowns.

On the one hand, he supposes it’s natural that things heat and speed up after a while – considering there is usually a pretty well-defined ending that sex works towards. He can see that that’s partly what’s happening.

But it’s not everything that happened in the short moment when Tina had distracted his attention. The moment was too short to go from languid, fluid, honestly _tender_ to… this.

He’s missing something else, and it takes him a moment to spot it.

They’re no longer holding hands.

Kurt’s frown deepens, and though his gaze remains on the girls, he only absentmindedly registers Brittany’s breath hitching and her hand shooting out to still Santana’s determined movements. After a beat – too short – Santana extracts her hands from under Brittany’s clothing, wipes her fingers on her own skirt, and scoots back. It’s not… cold, exactly, but it’s far from tender or intimate. If anything, it’s _practical_. Brittany frowns uncertainly, her thoughts clearly jumbled from her orgasm and Santana’s reaction, and reaches out to touch Santana’s hand. Though the brunette doesn’t respond, she lets her.

After a moment, Santana turns her head and meets Brittany’s eyes and the blonde smiles with relief. She whispers something (“You okay?” Kurt thinks), and when Santana nods, Brittany’s smile widens and she murmurs something that Kurt can’t catch, but that he thinks might be seductive or lewd because her grin has turned naughty and there’s a sparkle in her eye Kurt hasn’t seen before. When Santana shakes her head ‘No’, Brittany shrugs and slides herself against Santana so her head is in her lap.

And though Kurt can’t see Santana’s face relaxing, even _he_ visibly deflates when she begins running her hands through Brittany’s hair in a familiar, completely friendly gesture.

He sits back, mind still spinning from what he’d seen.

He’d clearly misjudged the arrangement, and Brittany’s role in it, as it clearly isn’t just for Santana’s benefit.

Or…

Perhaps it wasn’t Brittany’s need for sex he misjudged, but their arrangement _in_ _general._

Perhaps… perhaps sex _is_ dating. Emotionally speaking. At least for one of them.

Kurt frowns at the bold thought, but his instinct isn’t to push it away. Instead, it lingers, and he can’t rid himself of it.

Tina is still reciting, and Rachel is still singing, but he’s anything but bored and frustrated. At least he has something else to keep him occupied now: complete confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hours to write, seconds to comment! Let me know your favorite part/sentence/moment! Constructive criticism is also always welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Hours to write, seconds to comment! Let me know your favorite part/sentence/moment! Constructive criticism is also always welcome.


End file.
